There
was pistols drawed up at the tavern by some of our best people,
sir, who got het up disputin' who was eligible to serve." The
judge groaned. "You should be thankful them pistols wasn't
drawed on you, sir," said the sheriff amiably. "You've got a
heap to be grateful about; for we've had one lynching, and we've
rid one or two parties on a rail after giving 'em a coat of tar
and feathers."
The judge shuddered. The sheriff continued placidly:
"I'll take it you'll get all that's coming to you, sirsay about
twenty years--that had ought to let you out easy. Sort of round
out your earthly career, and leave something due you t'other side
of Jordan."
"I suppose there is no use in my pointing out to you that I did
not know the money was counterfeit, and that I was quite innocent
of any intention to defraud Mrs. Walker?" said the judge, with a
weary, exasperated air.
"It don't make no difference where you got the money; you know
that, for you set up to be some sort of a lawyer."
Presently the sheriff went his way into the dusk of the evening,
and night came swiftly to fellowship the judge's fears. A single
moonbeam found its way into the place, making a thin rift in the
darkness. The judge sat down on the three-legged stool, which,
with a shake-down bed, furnished the jail. His loneliness was a
great wave of misery that engulfed him.
"Well, just so my life ain't cut short!" he whispered.
He had known a varied career, and what he was pleased to call his
unparalleled misfortunes had reduced him to all kinds of
desperate shifts to live, but never before had the law laid its
hands on him.
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